


Know Your Audience

by vol_ctrl



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: 20 Million Views, ASMR, Angel is a little bit of a good person, Celebrations, Creepy Alastor, Fluff, Humor, Mistakes, Porn Star Angel, Protective Vaggie, Roleplay, Vaggie is a BAMF, Vaggie speaks Spanish, Vox Talks Like Max Headroom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21794077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vol_ctrl/pseuds/vol_ctrl
Summary: Charlie receives a flood of applications for the hotel, and is filled with dread to realize it's because of a little promotion from Angel.(A congratulatory fic for Hazbin Hotel reaching 20 million views!)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 141





	Know Your Audience

**Author's Note:**

> I don't do much drawing, but I sure as heck write a lot! I wanted to give Vivziepop & everyone who worked so hard on Hazbin Hotel a little token of my appreciation and congratulations. ♥

Charlie sat curled up against the arm of the couch in the lobby, notebook propped up against her bent legs in her usual thoughtful repose. She tapped the end of her pen against her lip and scanned her list so far. 

Her train of thought was interrupted by a blip from her phone. She glanced over and leaned into the arm of the couch to grab the device and check her notifications. Her eyes lit up as she saw an email with the subject: _Happy Hotel Application._

“Vaggie!” Charlie gasped eagerly, tapping the notification so rabidly she nearly froze her phone.

Vaggie looked up from her book with interest.

“We just got an application!” Charlie bounced on the couch, biting her lower lip.

“That’s great!” Vaggie cheered. “Who’s it from?”

Charlie stilled as much as possible, but she was practically vibrating with excitement as she focused on the email. Before she could still her eagerly skimming eyes, another blip chimed. Charlie saw another email notification. Her eyes widened as she checked--another application.

“This is amazing! Two applications!” Charlie gushed. “It’s happening, Vaggie!” The blond reached over for Vaggie’s hand, squeezing it with stars in her eyes.

Vaggie laughed with a hesitant smile. “Don’t get too excited, Charlie. You gotta keep a cool head, Miss Hotel Manager.”

Charlie tried to smother her excitement and failed. She returned to her phone to devour the applications--and there was another chime. And another. And another.

Charlie looked suspiciously at these newest notifications.

“What is it?” Vaggie asked. She could tell by the bemused look, the creased brow, that Charlie was uncertain. “... More applications?” Vaggie couldn’t believe that.

Charlie tapped at her phone, then her eyes flew wide. “Holy shit.”

“What?” Now Vaggie was on edge.

Charlie’s pale face had gone ever paler. “There are hundreds. Hundreds of applications.”

“What.” Vaggie’s jaw went slack. Slowly, her jaw tightened, a grumble of unspoken threats creeping up her throat. “Somebody’s responsible for this…” Her eye narrowed, sharp as a sniper scope, as she scanned the lobby. It was _conspicuously_ empty, as far as she was concerned. “Where’s that Shitlord?” Vaggie was on her feet in seconds, and with a snap of her clenched fist, armed with her spear.

“Wait--Vaggie,” Charlie managed to drag her eyes from her phone. “Maybe this is a good thing,” she said hopefully. “I-I mean, we need more tenants. It’s, um… it’s a lot, but…”

“No. Something stinks about this,” Vaggie said, nose wrinkling.

Charlie frowned and tapped at her phone, tabbing over to Slitter.[1] It became immediately apparent why there was such a sudden spike in applications. (If you could count “none” to “hundreds” as a spike and not a sudden and violent eruption.)

“Ohhh shit.” Charlie’s lips pursed into a thin line.

Vaggie looked sharply at Charlie, the muscles of her lean arm tense and ready.

Charlie looked up at Vaggie with dread in her eyes. “Angel posted a video.” She held up her phone for Vaggie to see the stream of posts scrolling by--screenshots from said video, of Angel looking as seductive and alluring as ever, baring an enticing shoulder, giving the camera bedroom eyes, and the title: BOYFRIEND VISIT AT THE HAPPY HOTEL - HAPPY ENDING ~.

“ANGEL!!” Vaggie roared. “¿Dónde está esa araña pervertida?"[2] she growled, hackles raised.

Charlie put her face in her hands, then raked her fingers through her hair. “Why would he do this? Is he trying to ruin me? I thought he was really going to try. First the turf wars, now this?” she babbled hollowly.

Vaggie stormed off on a warpath, shouting into the empty hotel.

Charlie clicked on a link to the video with shaking hands, and her breath caught in her throat. “T-twenty million… twenty million views,” she wept and collapsed onto the arm of the chair.

“What’s with all the ruckus, toots?” Angel asked as he emerged from a flight of stairs--one of several, hence how he was able to avoid Vaggie’s swirling tempest of fury.

Charlie leaped up from the chair. “Angel!” she cried, tears welling in her eyes. “How could you?”

Angel looked innocently at Charlie. “What’d I do? There’s a lotta things I _could_ have done... “ The spider demon meandered a few cautious steps forward. “But unless you got proof,” he said pointedly, waving a finger.

Charlie shoved her phone toward him. “You’ve got twenty million witnesses, mister.”

Angel bent forward to look at Charlie’s phone. “Heyyy, not bad!” he said cheerfully. “Although, y’know views doesn’t equal viewers--”

“Angel!” Charlie clasped her phone between her hands. “This undermines everything I’m trying to do here! You can’t use sex to promote the hotel!”

Angel crossed his arms under his tits, his other two hands planted on his hips. “Did you even watch it?”

Charlie’s pink cheeks darkened. “No, I didn’t watch it. Why would I?”

“THERE YOU ARE, CABRÓN!” Vaggie shouted from across the lobby, where she had reappeared after her first pass. She came sprinting at Angel, spear raised.

“Woah, woah, woah, hey--crazy lady with a spear, chill out!” Angel said, backing away quickly.

Vaggie didn’t stop until she had him pinned against a wall, spear at his throat. “¡Pendejo! ¿Cómo pudiste? ¡Después de todo lo que Charlie ha hecho por ti! ¡Después de todas las oportunidades que te ha dado! Hijo de puta, eres peor que la mierda. No vales nada, no mereces redención alguna."[3]

Angel couldn’t understand a word coming out of Vaggie’s mouth, but he didn’t need to know a lick of Spanish to hear the utter vitriol in her voice. Once she had been reduced to growls and heavy breathing, Angel gently prodded her spear. “Ya done?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Angel. This is it.” Vaggie refused to budge.

Angel sighed and melted back into the wall. Somehow that liquid frame managed to flatten itself back a few inches from Vaggie’s spear. “Just see it for yourself before you decide to kill me or kick me out or whatever.” He tilted his head with a bored look at Vaggie. He leaned toward Charlie with an affected imploring look on his face. “C’mon, Charlie.”

Charlie’s hurt look creased with conflict. She gripped her phone tightly, wanting to believe that somehow Angel hadn’t betrayed her trust _again._ There was always hope. There _had_ to be hope…

“Vaggie…” Charlie sighed heavily. “Let’s give him a chance.”

“No, Charlie! Enough chances!” Vaggie shouted. “This is _it._ ”

Charlie walked over and put a hand on Vaggie’s shoulder. The moth demon hated how easily Charlie’s touch melted her tension. She frowned at Charlie, but the longer Charlie looked at her with that gentle insistence, the weaker her resolve. Finally, she dropped the spearpoint with a frustrated sigh.

“Fine.”

Charlie gave her shoulder a little squeeze and a grateful smile, then snapped a hard gaze on Angel. “Alright, Angel.”

Angel sidled along the wall until he could put a few feet of space between himself and the angry duo. “So judgy,” he whined with a pout. “What, the porn star is only good for what he can do with his body?” Angel mocked, giving his tits a squeeze. “Wasn’t it you who told me I was--what was it? A fella with _redeeming_ qualities.” He turned on his heel, lacing his lower hands behind his back as he led the way toward the rec room. 

Charlie sank into the couch in front of the large, crooked TV. Vaggie took up her station behind her, arms crossed severely. Angel picked up the remote and clicked on the TV. He surfed over to his page--which was far from safe for work--and Vaggie looked fit to explode.

Angel put on the video and then flopped back on the couch, arms hooked over the back and legs crossed loosely.

Charlie winced in anticipation as she saw the video open with a panning shot from the hotel’s rooftop sign down to the front doors. A hand came into the frame from behind the camera to knock on the door. Angel answered, and the camera moved as if powered by the viewer’s gaze to take all of the limby demon in. He was dressed more casually than usual in a powder-pink sweater that hung off one pale shoulder, and wore a smirk less sardonic and more sweet.

“You made it,” Angel said sweetly to the camera. “Come on in.” The spider turned and led the way inside the hotel. “Welcome to my new home sweet home,” he said playfully. “The Happy Hotel!” There was a mild sarcasm laced under his sweet voice. “Mind the rug. I always trip on that damn thing,” Angel said lightly and giggled.

The camera followed, mindful of the rug, and panned over the lobby.

“It’s a little rough, but it’s got charm,” Angel said, peering over his shoulder.

The camera turned to slowly focus on the dozens of framed pictures on the walls.

“That’s Charlie, the blondie. She runs this joint,” Angel supplied. “She’s pretty strict,” he muttered, then softened with a sigh, “but fair. She claims everyone’s got a little good in ‘em.” Angel laughed. “If she keeps barfin’ up all that positivity, she’ll end up _puttin’_ a little good in all of us.”

The wince on Charlie’s face began to evaporate.

“C’mon. I’ll show you around later,” Angel insisted and appeared to take the viewer by the hand and lead them deeper into the hotel.

“Who the fuck is this?” Husk growled as Angel passed by, glaring into the camera.

“My guest. Be nice.” Angel stuck out his tongue.

The fur of his hackles was spiked and raised as Husk stared down the camera, sparing no small measure of stink-eye. But in the end, he muttered, “Whatever,” and sank back onto his stool.

“Husk’s not a bad guy. Just protective,” Angel explained. Then, “What? No, I don’t like him like that! Don’t be jealous.” The spider laid on his signature charm with heavy-lidded eyes, pale fingertips ghosting over his lips as his sweater threatened to dip further down his fuzzy cleavage.

While Angel was looking back at the camera, a figure began to materialize from the shadows at the far end of the hallway, over his shoulder. First a set of round, glowing red eyes, then a razor-sharp smile. A deep, dark, blood red began to pick out a silhouette--startling the camera enough to look sharply at it, a faint wobble to the frame.

Angel turned to look at what had startled the camera, and the picture began to fuzz and grow distorted. “Oi, Smiles!” Suddenly, the picture cleared and a well-dressed radio demon appeared standing much closer than where he had emerged from the shadows. “How’s business?” The sweetness of Angel’s performance shifted gears when he spoke to Alastor, regaining some of that grit he normally had off-screen.

Alastor studied the camera with mild irritation masked by genial amusement. “I see you’ve taken matters into your own hands,” he mused. Those red eyes flicked over Angel with a thoughtful buzz of static. “Interesting, yes.” With a crackle, Alastor’s eyes flashed wide and his grin intensified. “Very interesting. Carry on, then.” The radio demon turned on his heel and walked out of frame.

“Totally off his rocker, that guy,” Angel muttered. “I hear he’s some big shot.” The spider shrugged and led the camera up the stairs. “He’s the _benevolent_ benefactor of the place. So I guess it’s good we got friends in high places.”

The camera glanced back and found Alastor waiting, standing very still, watching and smiling. The frame juddered as it quickly refocused on Angel and hurried up the stairs.

“My room’s just this way,” Angel said in an inviting tone. “It’s so good to see you. I can’t wait to just…” The porn star put on an especially tender, bashful expression. “I missed you.”

Before Angel could make it to his room, there was a sudden gust of wind that blew down the corridor. Said gust of wind turned out to be a diminutive young lady--Niffty doing her usual rounds.

“Is there something wrong with you?” Niffty asked Angel point-blank.

“Wha?”

“Your room is really clean. Like, _really_ clean. And you’re wearing different clothes. And your hair is different.” Before Angel had a chance to answer, Niffty took notice of the camera and pointed at it. “What’s that? What’re you doing?” She leaned much too close to the camera, and Angel had to separate her from it. “Are you doing a tV SHOW?” Niffty suddenly became agitated, then remembered her composure. “Alastor’s really not big on TV,” she said quietly.

“Sorry, she’s, aha-ha, just… friendly,” he wheedled to the camera. “This is my guest, Niffty. Now… we’re just gonna go to my room.” He placated Niffty with a smile.

Her single iris moved from Angel’s smile to his demure stature, then narrowed. “Weird,” she said, a one word accusation, then wandered off.

Angel opened his bedroom door and welcomed the camera in. “Niffty’s really helpful--but kinda brutally honest. I like it,” he admitted with a grin. “This is my room,” he said cheerfully and walked over to flop onto his bed. “What d’you think?” Angel asked. His body naturally moved into attractive angles, all tousled hair and bare thighs and a soft gaze right into the camera.

“I know it prolly sounds boring and stupid,” Angel said as he rolled onto his side. “But I like it here.”

For the past several minutes--practically for the entirety of the video--Charlie had been weeping silently. With a loud, wet sniff, Charlie turned to look at Angel and smiled. “Oh, Angel!” She threw herself at the spider.

Angel caught Charlie like a punch in the gut and choked out a laugh. “Are you crying? Jeez…”

The video still had a good ten minutes of footage, but it was all the indulgent shit for the fans--the cuddling boyfriend murmuring sweet nothings, a dash of ASMR, the shit that actually got the views, even without explicit porn. There’s creeps and perverts of all types, and Angel was an equal opportunity provider. 

“You made this for me?” Charlie asked as she looked up at Angel with so much gratitude, he thought he was going to be sick.

“I made it for my fans,” Angel said evasively, eyes averted and smirk tugged to one side. “But I figure I owe ya one for messin’ up your big TV interview,” he admitted.

“Thank you, Angel!” Charlie gushed. “Oh, it’s-- it’s really sweet.” She wiped at her eyes, but couldn’t stop shining up at Angel.

“Alright, alright.” Angel extricated himself from the couch and stood up. “Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya.”

Vaggie met Angel’s eyes for a moment. Her fury had been quelled, but she still couldn’t muster up a smile out of that frigid expression.

Angel huffed with a smirk. There was no pleasing that girl. “Well, looks like yer gonna have your hands full.” He shot a proud look at the video. “Twenty millions views and counting.” Angel turned and headed for the door. “You better screen the applications for my creepy fans!” he called as he tossed a laugh and a careless wave over his shoulder.

“Txw--twz-twenty million views… Well, it’s no Rz-Rx--Rick Astley.”[5] Vox leaned the edge of his television head against the black of his knuckles as he checked the daily rankings on his phone.

“Rickrolling is _so_ 2008,” the Social Media demon[4] muttered. She was in a sour mood. Whenever Angel dropped a new video, be it some stupid sex-free short like he’d been messing around with lately, or, Hell forbid, some new Valentino production, his name would blow up and trend for hours. “You mean it’s no _Despacito,_ old man,” she sneered, grinning at Vox with a toss of her pigtails.

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes. “Well, your sx-sz-- ~~ssslut~~ _star,_ ” his voice doubled, as if dubbed over without removing the bottom track, “has certainly done it nx--nz-now, Val.” Vox peered across the lounge at the king of Hell’s porn empire, his snow-crash grin flickering wider and wider across his screen until it was so bright it nearly ruined the low lit ambiance.

“Asss requessted,” Valentino hissed.

Vox flicked over to one of the stills from the video--one he had been revisiting over and over. Alastor, center-frame, giving that oppressive smile, but with just a quirk of irritation that Vox was all too familiar with. “Be seein’ you, bz--bx-buddy.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1 Hell's very own 'Twitter.'[▲]  
> 2 "Where is that perverted spider?"[▲]  
> 3 "How could you, you piece of shit? After everything Charlie has done for you. After all the chances she’s given you! You’re worthless. You’re lower than dirt. You don’t deserve redemption."  
> (Roughly. I had a native speaker translate it for me. Thanks, Fig.)[▲]  
> 4 In my head canon, the demon with pigtails who takes a selfie with Vox in the pilot is the Social Media Overlord.[▲]  
> 5 [Max Headroom](https://youtu.be/cYdpOjletnc), ladies and gentlemen.[▲]


End file.
